His Husband
by TheHoovinator
Summary: Damien Gallagher, a man who made too many mistakes. Lee Rosenberg, a man who married a Gallagher. Tragedy strikes upon their family when the worst possible outcome occurs.
1. Just Advil

Damien sat himself upon his husband's lap, looking at him. "Hiya" He smiled, taking a bite of the banana that he held. "Hey" Brave responded, staring at Damien. "How're you?" He asked, a child like grin displayed on his face. "Good, you?" This was the usual small talk, Damien asking questions, Brave responding. After a while it would get old and they would most likely end up nude, their bodies drenched in sweat, the smell of sex lingering in the room. Atlas, today was different, the talk continued and neither one made any advances towards the other. The conversation lasted for a while, until Damien stood from his husband's lap, stumbling back as if intoxication had come over himself. It took the brunette a moment, but he straightened himself out, and groggily gave Brave a lopsided grin. "I'm tired, can _we_ go to bed?" he asked, exhaustion sweeping over his body like a hurricane. "Did you take anything other than Advil earlier?" Brave asked, and Damien truthfully answered by shaking his head. "Why'd you take Advil?" The feeling of displeasure washing over him. "My side hurt, can we go to bed now? I'm exhausted" Damien pleaded, barely able to keep his eyes open. "Yeah, yeah, sure. I'll meet you there," Damien frowned at the answer, but his fatigue seemed to be stronger than his will to argue, so he sighed, "Fine…" with that, the brunette walked to the bedroom, leaving Brave alone.

That night, Brave had searched symptoms, treatments, and diseases, prying to know what was wrong with his spouse. He stayed up into all hours of the night, the only light shown in the room being the blue light projected from his phone. He awoke, finding himself in a fairly uncomfortable position on the couch, his phone close to dead, the salmon colored sky daring to show through the curtained windows. "Shit…" he mumbled to himself, he had forgotten to sleep with Damien that night, and he knew the older man would not be happy about their separation. It took Brave a moment, fixing his hair and adjusting his clothes, but he made his way to the bedroom, watching the unmoving bed. He waited a few moments, before stepping forward to realize the bed was frozen. A feeling of uneasiness crept over him, he pulled the covers down, seeing the familiar shade of fluffy, auburn hair. In that moments, it appeared to him that Damien wasn't breathing, his breath hitched at the sight. He touched his shoulder, shaking him gently, something that had been foreign to him as he never wanted to deserve his significant other. "Hey Damien…" In return, there was no response, Damien's body giving no sign of life. He repeatedly called out his name, though his subconscious had long before realized that Damien Gallagher was _dead_.


	2. Silence Is The Loudest Sound

It was a doctor from the Wyoming State Hospital that walked out to Brave as he sat in the waiting room. His hands clutched together, his head down. The doctor approached the boy "Sir, are you Lee Rosenberg?" Brave didn't look up, but answered quietly, "Yes". The doctor exhaled, "Damien Gallagher was pronounced dead at 9:12am on August 29th, 2017" The doctor paused, before ending off, "I am… so sorry for your loss" His tone held only sympathy. Brave stayed silent, he knew his husband was dead. Though hearing it officially caused his breath to hitch. And in that moment the world seemed to slow, all around him was life. Living, breathing people. Sadness swelled in his chest, but even greater than that sadness was the anger that followed. Out of everyone in world, the fugitives, the killers, the men in jail, his husband was chosen to die. The man that he relied on, that man that relied on him. How could he know that Damien's last word would be "Fine", or maybe it wasn't, maybe he talked in his sleep before his passing. Alas, Brave wouldn't know, for he stayed in the living room, researching, instead of sleeping with the only man that he truly loved.

As Brave drove home that day, he rolled down his window, the breeze hitting his cheeks. It was this breeze, that Damien would never feel again, this car, that he would never sit in. Frustration bloomed in his body, knowing that this could've been prevented; so easily prevented. But it hadn't been, and who was there to blame? Only one person. Hatred, the most underestimated emotion was the only thing that sat in that car, on that day.

He took the long way home, driving down backroads, and although the world was silent in its wake, it's silence was the loudest noise in Brave's head, the perfect noise to fuel his emotions.


End file.
